


Between the Prime and the Prime Protector

by Raspberry_Omega



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, Femmes with spikes, Fingering, M/M, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Self Service, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, femmes with big spikes, valve eating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-27 17:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13253271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberry_Omega/pseuds/Raspberry_Omega
Summary: Warning! Do not proceed unless you’re fine with ‘femmes with spikes’, especially when they use them to frag certain mechs including Optimus Prime.Midnight Express is infatuated with the Prime – though perhaps not so much with Optimus himself as with his status as the Prime. The Camien mech follows him around all day wearing battle masks fashioned after his, occasionally comes up with pointless queries merely to get his attention, and always takes his side whenever the two big trucks disagree with each other.Pyra Magna has put up with Midnight, even after he is caught self-servicing on watch duty moaning Optimus’ designation, but his request for her assistance is outrageous.Midnight needs a proper overload so he can get back to his post. Provided that, he wants the truckformer in front of him to pretend to be Optimus, because 'you're about his size'.‘Midnight, overlooking how rude this is, how do you even know what size I am?’Some tags are added in advance of corresponding chapters. Others will be added along with chapter updates. Rating might also change.





	1. Worthy of a Prime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Forgotten_Logic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Logic/gifts).



> Many thanks, Night, for kindly tolerating every aspect of my idiocy, and I've come up with this new piece of scrap to celebrate our common Magnus-y emotional constipation.
> 
> The title of this work was initially the product of gawking at the screen for twenty minutes after realising that I didn't have one when everything else was ready, and then I got a better idea from Night so here goes.

Optimus’ comm kept beeping.

At the moment, Pyra Magna was in his office for the cycle’s routine report. Though she affected patience, pulling her lips into a thin line to conceal irritation, he could see that her short temper was playing up.

He checked the display. Another empty message from Midnight Express. Either the loco had gone loco, or his comm set was malfunctioning, or – perhaps he was in trouble.

This was actually the first time in the whole incident the thought had ever crossed his mind that it might be urgent need of assistance that was causing Midnight to send out blank comm messages.

He had disregarded the previous ones thinking the locoformer was probably messing around – it was not exactly his fault that he had paid no mind, Midnight Express being the ridiculous fanboy he was, spamming the Prime’s comm with random topics of no importance having been his passion for quite some time now. Optimus processed for a second – so there had been presumptions about Midnight on his mind, which had been clouding his judgment, therefore the risks of ignoring emergency signals from Midnight were at their highest.

‘Midnight Express,’ Optimus started, optics fixed on his comm-pad, ‘the Camien kid, he…’

Pyra rolled her optics, sighing her disapproval once she heard that designation.

‘What about him?’

‘He’s been sending me messages with no contents. It’s possible that he requires assistance.’

Pyra shared Optimus’ annoyance when it came to Midnight. She wasn’t exactly the jealous type, but seeing her lover being regularly bombarded with attempts and endeavours from the clueless but enthusiastic fanboy on his tailpipe was not easy. The two truckformers had kept their relationship private, and stomached the occasional interludes from each other’s admirers, but the scale on which Midnight Express commenced his advances was simply atrocious.

‘Is his status report overdue?’

‘Not yet,’ Optimus checked the chronometer.

‘Request an additional one then.’

Optimus obliged.

Having received no reply in due time, Optimus logged the incident into the system, and moved on to select a unit to send out to investigate.

‘Could you go check on him, Pyra?’ he asked, optics taking in the list on the screen. Pyra Magna was the prioritised choice. First she was a highly accomplished warrior, second she had nothing scheduled at the moment, and third, Optimus secretly felt that an action like this would reflect well, because ‘I have no interest in the fanboy and I’m letting you handle this because of my dedication to you’. It might appear blunt, but she’d get the point.

‘If you please,’ Pyra shrugged.

* * *

 It was almost midnight, when the coordinates of Midnight’s post were neared in the HUD of his Camien senior. Pyra Magna received audial input which was immediately voice-print analysed as Midnight Express when she drove in within yards of said post. She transformed back into root mode and walked up close.

Then she heard what sounded like a moan.

She paused, trying to ensure better reception for her audials.

A second sample of sound came in which was _definitely_ a moan.

Then it went worse. ‘Oooooh Optimus,’ Midnight’s lovesick voice roved the plains, ‘yes, yyyeeesssss, ohh, more there, mmmhhh, oooow…’ 

* * *

 ‘AAAAAAHHHHH!’ Midnight Express jumped up, bounced back and stumbled several steps when a truck-sized figure abruptly appeared into his visual. He had half a spark thinking it might be Optimus – how glorious would that be though, but recognising Pyra Magna, his mind was filled with dread. There wasn’t much need to emphasise on the point – people just overreact when they get caught by a Magnus or Magna doing anything that dubiously crosses boundaries because the Magni just don’t tolerate or forgive - and the mere presence of one of them brought unto him exponentially intensified sense of guilt.

But the first thing Pyra Magna demanded of him was not anything to do with that.

‘Stop pressing your comm set against that console, Midnight. You’ve been spamming Optimus without being aware,’ the senior Camien was calm. She sounded almost as if she hadn’t realised that he had been self-servicing while on duty.

Midnight checked his comm and readjusted it. ‘Sorry, Pyra Magna.’

He warily opticked Pyra’s face with infra-red of the highest accuracy, and sampled several EM field pulses. Not a lot of fury. He was a little bit relieved.

But that relief only lasted one second. The next thing Pyra said left him mortified.

‘Just finish that quickly and get back to your duty.’

So she did know what he had been up to. Midnight felt his faceplates burn.

‘I…I can’t,’ was all he could manage.

‘Oh?’ Pyra raised a brow ridge, ‘I thought it was going well the way it was?’

‘No actually -’ _no actually I’ve been self-servicing for one hour trying vehemently but fruitlessly to get an overload_ – he couldn’t say this, obviously, because abandoning duty for one hour was more unacceptable than abandoning duty for unknown but a presumed shorter time, ‘I –uh, I was trying to finish quick, but – but I just couldn’t.’

‘Two sets going?’ Pyra seemed unabashed with the technical aspect of such things when trying to solve a problem.

‘Of course,’ he felt his faceplates burn so hot it passed onto his battle masks, which he valued very much, so he retracted the masks.

‘How about getting back to your post without it then?’

‘If you would permit me to have my processor preoccupied with thoughts of … of that, the whole time while I’m on duty,’ Midnight muttered, sheepish, trying not to look Pyra in the optic. The fact that he appeared way more embarrassed than the situation required was indiscernible as far as Pyra Magna was concerned, but he was irked by a thought so evil even Midnight himself could not believe.

That was, of course, something that had just occurred to him after the idea that ‘a truckformer of _roughly the same size as Optimus Prime_ just walked in on him’ resurfaced to his mind.

‘Deal with this, soldier. This is your own responsibility.’ Pyra was stern, as always.

He opticked the truckformer’s frame. Pyra Magna had one of the finest builds he’d seen among the trucks, he’d have to say, a perfect balance between might and beauty, almost worthy of a Prime. Then again, if one day she did hold the Matrix and receive an upgrade, she would undoubtedly be a match for charisma and attractiveness for Optimus… Midnight couldn’t help but admire her frame some more, though it might just be the hotness working his mind this way.

Pyra didn’t seem to have a clue as to what the loco might be thinking, and the request he finally came up with was certainly unexpected.

‘I think I require assistance… with, with this.’ Midnight was blushing like the pits but he managed.

‘Speak your mind,’ came the non-nonsense reply.

‘Y-you are, -uh, about his size, Pyra,’ he looked up, having finally gathered up enough courage, ‘and if you could just… hover over me, hold my shoulders or, …I don’t know just… a little bit of contact. And pretend you were Optimus.’

Needless to say, Pyra Magna was immensely offended on multiple accounts by this. She paused for a moment to think up a proper response.

‘Overlooking how rude this is, Midnight,’ she started, ‘how do you even know what size I am?’ She had intended for this to sting, but from the blank look on Midnight’s face, the kid was too desperate to care.

‘I’m sorry, Pyra. It’s just… never mind.’ Midnight averted his helm. He looked hurt.

Pyra sighed. Midnight had always been a bot of good nature and good faith. Though she felt offended by the implication that she could serve as a substitute for the Prime – as if she had not been a prize herself, she was otherwise sure that the request bore no ill intention. Midnight being Midnight, he simply _needed_ that bit of role playing and he was being honest about it.

It wouldn’t hurt to indulge him just this once, would it?

Midnight could hardly believe it when the reply hit his audials.

‘Alright, as you wish,’ Pyra said. 

* * *

Midnight Express was seated at the empty end of the stand on which the outpost control panel was installed, with Pyra Magna standing next to him, holding him in an embrace.

She caressed his backstrut and his antenna, as he slid his own digits in and out of his valve while pumping and squeezing his spike. She could feel his faceplates burning.

‘Mmmh, kiss my neck, Optimus,’ he murmured, already bringing the role play thing into this. Biting back a smirk, Pyra obliged, licking and nibbling at Midnight’s neck cables, and he moaned even louder.

‘Oh, Optimus,’ he said breathily, ‘please, tell me what you think of me. F-for the limitless love I have for you, if I could just… be rewarded with a little bit of your attention…’

Oh, Midnight. It surely was unfair for you, sweet kid, Pyra thought. ‘Certainly, Midnight,’ she whispered into his audials, ‘you’ve been a good soldier, and you are the _prettiest_ locoformer I’ve seen.’

She could feel Midnight shudder at that. She moved on to kiss his cheeks warmly.

‘Optimus, kiss my lips…,’ Midnight said in between the delicious sounds he was making.

Would that be a little too far?

Probably not. Pyra held one white epaulet and the back of the blue helm, and planted a passionate kiss on his lips.

‘Mmmh…’ Midnight stimulated himself a little faster. Things were not nearly magical enough, even though he had had no problem imagining the truckformer in front of him as Optimus Prime. The reason was simple – if Optimus Prime had been here holding and kissing him, holding and kissing would definitely not have been the summit of what was expected from him.

‘Uh…Optimus?’ Midnight’s voice trembled.

‘Yes, my most beloved ally,’ Pyra smiled at how naturally she had managed the participation in this absurdity.

‘Could you… _digit my valve a bit_?’

Pyra’s smile froze. ‘Midnight, don’t you think this has gone far enough?’

‘Ugh, please don’t break character!’ Midnight paused for a moment, ‘alright, I’m sorry. That was too much to ask.’ He went back to gently massaging his equipment sets with a hurt look on his face.

Pyra never realised it was just that look that got her. Also, Midnight’s valve was exquisite and enticing now that she set her optics on it.

She sighed. ‘Just lie on your back,’ she commanded.

Midnight could hardly believe it when he was pressed against the surface of the stand and a warm digit eased into him. He whimpered as his valve finally had something other than his own digits it could suck and taste to show his love. ‘Optimus, please, give me all of _it_.’

He was obviously pretending that he had been receiving Optimus’ spike. Pyra slightly shook her helm, but decided to oblige.

By the time Pyra had four digits in and was starting with little to-and-fro moves, Midnight’s processor was already dreaming, and the words in between his pleasured moans were becoming more and more incoherent. ‘Aahhh yeessss, Optimus, aaaahh, frag yes, just – mmmh, big powerful … yyyyeesssssss, OOOOhHHHhhh…’

As much as Pyra hated being called Optimus, Midnight’s valve felt wonderful, warm, soft and thoroughly lubed. And his delicate face had on a display of extreme sensations, optics shuttered, faceplates blushing, both pleasure and embarrassment outright and visible. She could not help but imagine what it might feel like to actually _spike_ him, though she was quick to eliminate that thought.

Midnight had lovely features, of course, and his current state of being aroused and pleasured enhanced that beauty tremendously too. He looked… exquisite, almost irresistible.

She should just overload him and get it over with.

With this decision in mind, she was significantly more efficient in action, playing her ‘Optimus Prime’ part to the utmost. Fragging Midnight more vigorously with her digits, Pyra hovered her frame over his, leaning close to his audials.

‘Midnight, you are so beautiful in berth.’

She began kneading Midnight’s anterior node with her other servo with the gentlest of motions. Midnight could not articulate any more, both servos working up his own spike, pelvis slightly grinding against Pyra’s digits, fluids smearing Pyra’s servo, his own thighs and the surface under him. He moaned loudly and constantly.

Pyra continued with the whispering. ‘Why haven’t I agreed to interface with you earlier? You are  _so_ amazing. I just want to couple with you in berth every cycle and love you like you never know.’

Midnight came with a delicious high-pitched whimper and ejaculated onto Pyra’s chassis. His valve twitched violently. Pyra continued with the thrusts, gradually easier and slower, before finally pulling out. She opticked the transfluids on her chassis. Judging from the amount, Midnight probably hadn’t had a proper one for a long while.

Midnight got on his pedes, venting heavily, and closed his panels once he had depressurised and placed his spike back. His faceplates were still on fire.

‘Thank you, Pyra. I’ll… get back to my duty.’

‘Good.’ Pyra said, apparently unfazed.

Apparently unfazed. Only Pyra herself knew otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear fellow sinners, when you get to the ‘match for charisma and attractiveness for Optimus’ bit, please note that this monologue comes from the perspective of Midnight Express the Optimus Prime Fanboy, not from mine, because as far as I’m concerned Pyra Magna is the hottest Cybertronian there is. I am certainly helm over pedes…cos she is soooooo dreamy…


	2. Primal Acclaim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Optimus, I’m about to breach someone’s confidence because we don’t keep secrets from each other, and because I’m furious.’
> 
> Optimus looked up from the files he had been reading, bewildered.
> 
> ‘Someone had me digit him while pretending I had been you. I feel underappreciated.’ Pyra Magna continued, clenching her denta.
> 
> ‘Oh, Pyra,’ Optimus stood up and pulled her into an embrace. He didn’t know what to say, himself being confused by the fact that he wasn’t particularly upset by the ‘Midnight Express had had Pyra digit him and she had not declined it’ thing. He was not jealous at all. ‘Let it pass.’
> 
> ‘No, I will not,’ she shoved him off and then against the desk until he lay flat on his back, ‘and I’m going to deliver my service to you, and you’re going to appreciate it the way it should be, and commend me with your authority as Prime.’ She spread his legs apart, leant in and placed a kiss on his underside panel.
> 
> The next thing he knew, Optimus’ processor was slipping into oblivion while he melted into the amazing service commenced on his valve with Pyra’s mouth and glossa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the ‘Prime Protector’ idea goes to Night.
> 
> The weather is being rough, and I drank some weird-tasting water yesterday and I now have a fever again. This is going to be a fever chapter – if you know what I mean. I don’t even know.
> 
> The original plan was for Optimus to get boned in this chapter, after he gets eaten out, but then there’s me being a lazy aft so the 'Optimus getting boned' is going in the later chapters.

Midnight Express was confused. He knew his obsession with Optimus Prime was genuine and true, and he had therefore expected his own devotion to be loyal and exclusive. Somehow the exclusiveness was now proving to be hardly controllable, as he found himself frequently trancing, daydreaming about another truckformer since the incident the other night.

Pyra Magna the Prime Protector. She was competent enough to hold the Matrix herself, and besides those qualities that made her so, she considered the Matrix and the current holder her responsibility. She gave Optimus a hard time with the harsh standards, true, but she’d also fight for him and die for him.

Despite how smitten Midnight was with Prime, seeing Pyra around Prime had never made him jealous, the reason being, Pyra was a lot like Optimus in so many aspects. Both had powerful builds and carried their might with the kind of confidence gained through battlefields, both spoke with a tone that was perfectly balanced between authoritative and reassuring, and both were the type, whenever situations were severe, to tell their allies ‘stay behind me’.

And what Pyra did for him was just… He felt his callipers twitch as his processor involuntarily reminisced the other night. He had been crossing boundaries like the pits alright, but strangely, if memory served him right, Pyra had handled the whole thing in a rather impersonal manner. She had had everything in check – the kind of self-control that enticed him as much as it frustrated him.

He turned around, smoothing the insulate covers out. Pyra must be very dominant in berth. Optimus was bound to be a powerful top but he still had a gentle spark, whereas Pyra Magna, - through the brutish cold of Caminus and the demolishing corrosion of the Rust Sea, a tough warrior like that just seemed to have more reason to make him squirm and plead in berth –

What was he thinking?!

Midnight retracted his battle masks. He forced his own thoughts into another track. No more ‘how Pyra must be in berth’ stuff. Okay. How about… hey how about getting some finials on my forehead? Probably colour them magenta?

Ah! No!

Midnight kicked himself and pulled the covers over his helm.

* * *

‘Optimus, I’m about to breach someone’s confidence because we don’t keep secrets from each other, and because I’m furious.’

Optimus looked up from the files he had been reading, bewildered.

‘Someone had me digit him while pretending I had been you. I feel underappreciated.’ Pyra Magna continued, clenching her denta.

‘Oh, Pyra,’ Optimus stood up and pulled her into an embrace. He didn’t know what to say, himself being confused by the fact that he wasn’t particularly upset by the ‘Midnight Express had had Pyra digit him and she had not declined it’ thing. He was not jealous at all. ‘Let it pass.’

‘No, I will not,’ she shoved him off and then against the desk until he lay flat on his back, ‘and I’m going to deliver my service to you, and you’re going to appreciate it the way it should be, and commend me with your authority as Prime.’ She spread his legs apart, leant in and placed a kiss on his underside panel.

‘P-Pyra, this is my office,’ Optimus’ faceplates instantly heated up.

‘According to your Autobot Code, an office with its door shut is a private area outside work hours,’ Pyra placed a servo on Optimus’ thigh and slid it across the inner side in a very inappropriate fashion, ‘and speaking as an essential ally attempting to carry out duties beneficial to your Autobot cause, I require access to your intimate arrays, Prime.’

‘We can wait until we get back to my quarters –‘

‘No, because this desk is just the right height, and doing this in your berth hurts my neck.’

‘You don’t have to do this right now just to prove a point. I appreciate you. You’re good at the hard work and you’re good at going south.’

‘That is sweet, but not enough. I want to hear you _moan out my designation_.’

* * *

With the panel cover retracted and the equipment exposed to the chilly air, he felt a bit vulnerable. Then a warm palm flattened against his valve, massaging it in gentle, circular motions, with the strength evenly distributed.

‘Midnight Express wanted you,’ Pyra said while rubbing Optimus’ valve with the servo, ‘he called me Optimus the whole time.’

Optimus hummed. ‘I’m sure that was irritating.’

‘Not exactly,’ Pyra smirked, pressing a little more firmly, ‘I didn’t like being called Optimus, but that reminded me of you, and you know how _you_ work on me.’

She went down before Optimus could think up a response, and planted a kiss on the valve lips.

Optimus slightly swayed his hips as a groan escaped his vocaliser.

Pyra nudged and kissed the outer rims thoroughly, before stretching the tip of her glossa into the entrance.

‘O – oh, Pyra,’ Optimus clutched the edges of the desk. Fluids started to stream from within.

The glossa was in no haste to go deep, and just lingered there, tasting the delicious mesh close to the entrance. Pyra’s lips pursed up to kiss Optimus’ valve lips, suck them, before reaching deeper along with her glossa, until the lip-plates brushed against the inner side of the rims. Optimus let out a stifled moan.

Teal servos moved to hold both of Optimus’ thighs in place as the semi-truck began to writhe with need. His waist stretched and swayed as the sturdy chassis heaved, and his vocaliser was so pressured sweet sounds escaped despite his efforts to hold them back. Pyra expertly worked her glossa within and her lip-plates without, and it did not take long before lubes came gushing out of Optimus’ delicate valve.

‘Ooh, Pyra…’ Optimus bit his lips.

Ignoring the fluids smeared across her face and coated on her lip-plates, Pyra raised her glossa up and pressed it against the sensors along the top on the inside. Optimus gasped, and then moaned out as the warm, solid metallic glossa dragged through those sensors.

‘Pyra! Yes, yes…Ahh…’ Optimus obliged as his thighs were pushed further apart and his pelvis positioned slightly upwards. Pyra continued to thrust her glossa against the string of sensors and felt Optimus’ callipers twitch around it. Optimus sank his digits into the desk with such strength the edges were visibly bent, and he was still squirming uncontrollably despite these apparent attempts to prevent it.

When the tides were high enough, a teal servo was removed from the white thigh it had been restraining. Digits curled up and pressed against the anterior node, massaging softly but rhythmically.

‘Ohh, so good, Pyra, yyyeeesss, ooh…’

The moves gradually picked up in speed and force, until a gasp went choked in the Prime’s vocaliser as his frame underwent a brief throe of spasm, callipers clamping, equipment pulsating, vents overtasking in a processor-blowing overload.

‘Pyra Magna…’ He groaned, as if announcing the claimer of his love and the possessor of his spark. He knew she’d like to hear that.

Pyra pulled out and, curving her lips into a defiant sneer, she purred out her query in an electrifying tone, ‘How did you like it, my Prime?’

Optimus was venting so heavily he could hardly speak. ‘The-there’s no match for you… among our ranks. You’re d-definitely…the most valued ally…I have right now.’

Pyra’s lips curved even more as she briefly shuttered one optic. Without warning, several teal digits stretched into Optimus’ valve again. A thumb rubbed the cerulean anterior node in circles, while the digits in the slick cave danced around in plunges.

‘A-aaAHHH!’ Optimus was completely taken by surprise, but the second overload was tremendous as it was unexpected. The surface of the desk was already coated with fluids. Registering the mess he had made, Optimus’ faceplates burnt with embarrassment.

‘Have you been overriding your pressurisation protocols?’ Pyra sounded displeased, as if her scorecard hadn’t been given a fair A plus, since Optimus was preventing his spike from breaking out of its housing. He was supposed to show her how good it had been.

‘Of course. This escapade has gone far enou-‘

He was silenced mid-sentence as he felt a mouth closed around his anterior node, and the softest part of that glossa flicking swiftly against it. Then there was licking and sucking and all that, and he lost the third one faster than he could believe.

‘Ugh-nngh…AHHH-’ A breathy and throaty moan, and he was completely exhausted.

Pyra raised her helm again, licking the fluids away with her glossa. With a devious smirk on her face, she was poised to demand the acclaim which was due, which was also supposed to be honoured with Primal authority.

She was extremely disappointed, because the Prime, having had his delicate equipment roughed up so much and his frame discharged of a triple overload, had fallen into recharge right after.


End file.
